


Remember

by For_TheLoveOf_Fiction



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Choking, M/M, Metal Arm Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Smut, Steve Rogers Feels, Stucky - Freeform, bucky cant remember
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 11:07:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15993914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/For_TheLoveOf_Fiction/pseuds/For_TheLoveOf_Fiction
Summary: After Steve falls from the Helicarrier at the end of CAWS, Bucky takes him back to an apartment instead of leaving him on the side of the river. He's struggling to remember out who he is and why he's so hesitant to kill him and disregard his direct orders. Things happen. Just read it.





	Remember

Steve groaned as his consciousness slowly brought him back to reality. Everything hurt. It felt like someone had taken a sledge hammer and beat every bone in his body into mush. He felt cold concrete against his cheek and realized that he was lying on the ground. He tried to move, to get a bearing on where he was and what happened to him, but he couldn’t get up. He struggled halfheartedly to push himself into a sitting position, but it proved to be too much of an effort. It almost felt as if something was holding him down.  
He gave up the futile attempt to move and instead tried to remember what had happened to him. At first it was dark. His mind was blank and his head was pounding, begging to be allowed to return to the state of unconsciousness, but slowly the images started to come back. He remembered being surrounded by cold. He couldn’t breathe. And he remembered hitting something. Hard. Water. He had fallen from the helicarrier. There had been an explosion that had ripped the ship apart. The glass fell out from under him and he fell to what should have been his death.  
Suddenly the memories were flooding back so fast that he could barely keep up with them. He had shooting pains in his head now, but he couldn’t stop it. He remembered someone else there too. Bucky. But he’d been trying to kill him, trying to stop him from keeping the helicarrier from getting into position to kill all those people. He remembered the wild look in Bucky’s eyes, the determination to kill, and the complete, utter unrecognition there. He remembered letting Bucky beat and destroy him. He didn’t want to fight him. Instead he tried, begged uselessly to get him to remember. And that’s when he recalled the one thing Bucky had said to him before he fell. The one line that shattered him and made him want to die.  
“You’re my mission.”  
He felt his heart break all over again, and in that instant, that pain took over any other physical pain he was experiencing. He felt tears flood his eyes and he slowly blinked them open to let them fall down his face. After everything that they had been through growing up, struggling against endless adversaries, in war and in life, after mourning the death of his best friend and lover, this was how it had ended. So many times Steve had imagined, wished, begged for Bucky to be alive. He used to picture what life would be like for them in the twenty first century. He used to imagine them together, happy, open for the first time. He dreamed that they’d have a family and that they’d be married. But he never would have imagined the reality that was thrown at him. Now all the could think about was how he wished Bucky had died falling from that train. Because that was easier than accepting that Bucky was here now, and hating him. Hating him so much that he wanted him dead.  
Slowly, his eyes adjusted to his surroundings. It was hard to focus, and the added tears didn’t help, but everything eventually swam into view. He was in a small room, almost completely bare except for a mattress in the corner and a table topped with an assortment of items that he couldn’t quite make out on the far wall. He tried once again to get himself into a seated position but his arms wouldn’t move. Finally he realized why. His wrists were tied securely behind his back with a heavy amount of rope. Normally he’d be able to break out of restraints like that no problem, but his body was too weak to attempt it. Groaning, he painfully managed to flip himself onto his chest and push his knees up so he could turn himself to sit against the wall. Every bone and muscle protested with an immense amount of pain, but he was able to flop down rather unceremoniously so he could at least scan his surroundings from a vertical position.  
He glanced down at himself to see if there was any visible damage and saw that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. In fact, he wasn’t wearing anything except for the battered, dirty pants that used to be part of his suit. Now they were torn and damaged to the point where they probably wouldn’t be fixable. Looking down at his chest, he now wished he were wearing a shirt as well. There were massive purple bruises all over his body and cuts so deep they’d have to be stitched up. He was incredibly dirty too.  
He tried to remember once again what happened after he fell off the helicarrier, but his memories stopped short when he hit the water. He leaned his head back against the cold wall and let his eyes fall shut, taking a deep breath and blowing it out through his nose. He must have blacked out after the fall. He had no idea how he survived that, no memory whatsoever. He didn’t even know how much time had passed since then. It had to be at least a day. He was completely dry now and all the blood on him had cracked into hardened scabs over his skin. It was hard for him to care about any of that though. The pain of knowing Bucky didn’t remember him was far greater to him than anything else.  
The practical side of his brain didn’t let Steve mourn for long, however. He quickly realized that he could be in a lot of danger here. Part of him didn’t care, wanted to wait it out and hope whoever had captured him would just kill him, but the better part of his brain remembered his responsibility to people like Nick Fury and Natasha. He needed to find a way out and fast, before anyone came back looking for him. He tried to stand up, he needed to look for something to cut through the ropes that were holding his hands, but his legs gave out and he fell back down. He was too weak to do much more than shift on the ground to try to find a position where he wasn’t in excruciating pain. He let out a frustrated grunt and tried to wrack his brain for other solutions. If he could just get to the table on the other side of the room, he might find something that would help him there.  
He was about to attempt to slide his way across the floor as to avoid standing up again, but the sound of footsteps stopped him. They sounded as though they were walking up a flight of stairs, so he figured he might be in some sort of apartment complex. The steps grew louder and he soon realized they were headed straight for his room. He quickly arranged himself back like he was on the floor when he first woke up and pretended that he was still unconscious.  
He heard the lock turn and the door open to his right, and he cracked his eyes open just enough to see a hooded man stalk across the room to the table. He had a paper bag in his arm that he sat down and began to look through. His back was to Steve and his hood was up so he couldn’t see the man’s face, but he was able to fully open his eyes now to observe what he was doing without being caught. It was obvious that he was built like an ox. His biceps strained against his jacket and his back rippled with muscle every time he moved. He unpacked thing after thing, arranging them on the table as he did so, but Steve still couldn’t tell what they were. Some of it looked like it could be food, but there was no way to know for sure.  
He didn’t have time to look for long, though, because the man was now turning around and walking towards him. Steve shut his eyes quickly, sincerely hoping he hadn’t noticed that he had woken up yet, and he tried to even out his breathing. It was difficult since he was in so much pain, but the man seemed to buy it because he didn’t say anything. He veered off to the left and opened a door that Steve hadn’t noticed earlier. It must have been the bathroom because he heard a faucet turn on and water running. He wanted desperately to try to find out who this man was, why he had him there, and why he had bothered to take him from the river, but he made himself wait. No good was going to come from rushing into this with no plan and almost no bodily strength.  
He heard the faucet turn off and footsteps make their way back into the main room. Only this time, they were now directed toward him. His heartrate picked up significantly and he all but held his breath as the man stopped and crouched down in front of him. Steve kept still though, refusing to give that man the upper hand by letting him know he was awake. He braced for the worst, expecting him to hurt or kill him now, but nothing came. Instead he felt a finger delicately graze one of the gashes on his chest. He felt a slight sting from where he touched injury, but the gesture didn’t seem malicious. He almost seemed… concerned. Steve was thoroughly confused now, but he still didn’t move.  
He heard some rustling beside him as the man picked something up, and then he felt something soft and cool brush against the place where he was just touched. It was a washcloth. Surprise and confusion washed over him as he was slowly cleaned up. Every cut and injury was attended to, even the dirt was scrubbed off of him. A couple times, he had to go back to the bathroom and wash the blood and dirt out of the cloth, but eventually, Steve was clean. Or, as clean as he could be in this situation. It made no sense to him that someone that had him tied up would be trying to help him though. Something was very off, and he wanted to know what.  
Steve moaned softly, attempting to let the man know that he was waking up without startling him. His mouth opened and he stretched a little bit, pulling off a fake yawn. He couldn’t help it anymore. He was too confused, and he needed to know where and with who he was. He felt the other man scramble away quickly to the far side of the room as he slowly reopened his eyes. It wasn’t hard to act disoriented since he still largely felt that way, but his eyes immediately flicked over to where the man was now standing, behind the table on the far side of the room. He had his hood pulled down over his face so Steve still couldn’t tell who he was, and he was standing defensively, like he was ready to pounce if he made the wrong move.  
“W-where am I? What happened” Steve croaked out, surprising himself with how gravely and broken his voice sounded. He made no move to get up, figuring the best way to try to get him to talk was to lie still and be as non-threatening as possible.  
For a long time, he got no response. Silence stretched out into what felt like an eternity as he watched him, waiting for some kind of answer, but he got none. Eventually he couldn’t stand it anymore. He once more rolled over and pushed himself onto his knees, groaning with pain as he did so. He watched him closely, hoping for some kind of reaction, but other than a small step backwards and a slightly more defensive stance, he got none. Sighing, he slumped back against the wall and leaned his head back, watching closely.  
“Who are you?” he tried again, softer this time. He didn’t expect a response from this question either, but after a moment of quiet, the other man reached down slowly to grab something off the table. When he brought his arm back up, he was holding a gun. Steve’s breath caught in his throat and his heart rate sped up once more as he closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable, but again, it never came. He heard footsteps and then something dragging across the floor, and when he opened his eyes, he saw that he had dragged a chair across the floor and was now sitting about a yard in front of him. His head was down to hide his face, but the gun was pointed directly at him. Steve had no idea what to make of this situation. First, he wanted to help clean him up, now he had a gun on him. It was like he was struggling inside himself, trying to figure out what he wanted to do with him.  
He didn’t dare try to speak with him again, though. All the conflict inside his head could easily be disrupted if he said the wrong thing. Instead, he settled for relaxing against the wall. He was becoming more and more aware of the pain, and it was getting harder for him to think clearly. His eyes fell shut as he waited for the silent war inside the other man’s head to be resolved.  
It was at least another hour before Steve heard him move again, and when he looked up towards the noise, he saw that he had set the gun on the ground. Relief flooded him now that he realized he wasn’t in immediate danger. Maybe he could try talking to him, or maybe he would finally explain what was going on. That relief he was feeling didn’t last long though, because the next moment, the man looked up at him from under his hood and his stomach dropped. Every thought he had running through his mind came to a screeching halt. He was at a complete, utter loss for words as he looked him in his face, trying to convince himself he was just seeing things. But he was really there, staring at him intensely with cold, empty eyes.  
“With you ‘till the end of the line,” he said slowly. “Why would you say that? I was trying to kill you. And you said ‘with you ‘till the end of the line’. Why?”  
Steve sat forward slightly, not entirely sure what to say. Could it be possible that he was remembering?  
“Do you know who I am?” he finally replied, aching to have some kind of knowledge that he remembered even a little bit.  
“Yes,” he replied simply, monotonously. “You are Steve Rogers. I was ordered to kill you.”  
Steve’s heard plummeted. “But do you know me?”  
Bucky seemed to get angry at that question. He stood up quickly, marching over and crouching down in front of him. He looked frightened, angry, confused.  
“I’m the one asking the questions here. Got it?” he growled, his voice dangerously low.  
“I know, I know,” Steve said quickly, trying to diffuse the bomb he’d apparently just set off. “I’m trying to answer the best way I know how. Bucky, do you not remember anything? About us?”  
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, like he was trying to remember something, but it was incredibly difficult. “I-I…” he faded off. He stood up and started pacing across the room, agitated.  
Steve took this as an opportunity to keep going. He seemed like he was right on the edge of remembering, and if he just had the right push, he might get there. “Did you pull me out of the river?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking. Bucky stopped abruptly and stared him dead in the eye for a moment before looking down and nodding slowly. He resumed his pacing.  
“Come on, Buck. You’ve got to remember something. We’ve known each other our whole lives.” He knew he should be asking more important questions like where they were and what day it was, but all Steve really cared about now was getting him to remember. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes. We grew up in Brooklyn together. We…” now Steve trailed off, not knowing if he should tell them all that they used to mean to each other.  
“I don’t know!” he yelled, stopping again and stalking towards him. “I can’t remember! I don’t know why I saved you. It was pure instinct!”  
Bucky was shaking now. It was obvious that he was struggling against his mind, fighting to remember something he didn’t know he had forgotten. He moved away and started taking off his jacket and gloves. He threw them on the ground angrily and turned his back towards Steve so he couldn’t see the emotion that was bubbling up within him. His metal arm gleamed in the dim light as he put his hands defiantly on his hips.  
It hurt Steve so much to see Bucky like this. He had so much anger and confusion inside him and it was eating him alive. He had to get through to him somehow. He came up with an idea that was quite possibly suicidal, but he had to try. Very carefully, he started to stand up. He used the wall for support since his legs were still not independently capable of supporting his weight, but was able to get most of the way up.  
“Buck, please try to remem-“  
His legs wobbled dangerously and he couldn’t finish his sentence. The strain of standing up in his weakened state made him dizzy and he started to fall over. Bucky turned around just in time to see it happened and immediately rushed over to grab him before he hit the ground. He stood him back up and held him against the wall with his metal arm so he wouldn’t fall again.  
“Why do you keep calling me Buck?” he asked lowly, not willing to let go and let him fall, but also speaking in a tone that conveyed his dominance in the situation. To his surprise, however, Steve just smiled. It was only a small curve of his lips, but Bucky caught on immediately and pushed him harder against the wall, this time to hurt him a little. “What!” he growled, taking a step forward so that he was close enough to share his breath. He looked murderous. It was the kind of look that said if you don’t tell me what’s going on right now I’m going to snap your neck.  
Steve should have felt scared. He should have done everything he could to try to convince Bucky not to kill him. But having him this close, for the first time in so long, even in this highly threatening situation, he couldn’t help the feelings that were rushing back to him. He hadn’t felt his touch in so long that suddenly, that’s all he wanted. But he couldn’t have that. Not now. Not when Bucky could barely remember him. He pushed them away as quickly as they had come.  
“That’s what I would call you,” he said softly, drawing back to the attempted conversation. “Buck. It was my nickname for you. Please, you have to remember something. If you didn’t you wouldn’t have pulled me out of that river. You wouldn’t have brought me here. You wouldn’t have stopped me from falling over!”  
Bucky’s breath was coming out heavy now. He was obviously affected by Steve’s words and he was trying to rationalize them in his head. He really did feel like he knew him. It felt natural and almost nice to be so close to him, to touch him. But he just couldn’t remember clearly. And part of him didn’t want to remember, to feel that want, that pull towards him. He’d been trained to be completely unattached and he was punished when he showed weakness. It was all too confusing, and he hated it. He leaned his head forward against the wall just above Steve’s shoulder, bringing them closer still, but the grip his arm had on his chest didn’t weaken. His heart was racing now, whether from adrenaline or their close proximity, he didn’t know. Too much was going on in his head, but then suddenly, one thought pushed its way up over all the others making everything else seem irrelevant: he wanted to kiss Steve.  
Immediately he reprimanded himself for having such a selfish desire. He’d be punished later for it for sure. His mind wasn’t his own anymore. He couldn’t be thinking these things. But then again, he should have left Steve to die. Those were his orders. But he saved him anyway. And he had no idea why.  
“Did-were we…ever…” he shut his eyes tight and stopped, not knowing how to finish that sentence. His head slid down until it hit Steve’s shoulder, his body moving on its own now. He couldn’t seem to stop from getting closer. There was something that ran deep, deeper than anything he’d ever known running through the both of them. Deeper than even Hydra could have washed out of his brain. He didn’t understand. He should be feeling angry. He should be finishing his mission, but his body seemed to be remembering things that his brain could not, and he didn’t have the willpower to stop it. It was like Steve set something off in him that he couldn’t control.  
Steve wanted so badly to wrap his arms around him there, but he couldn’t, so he settled for leaning his cheek against the top of his head. He could almost see the barriers breaking down in his mind, brick by brick. He was so close to having him back. “Yes,” he whispered, answering the question that Bucky couldn’t finish. Bucky choked out a sob, trying so hard to remember this intimacy that was so clearly there. He could sense it, but he couldn’t see it. He was so close. His grip on Steve loosened and his hand slid slowly down his side until it rested on his hip. He was on autopilot now, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. “Yes,” Steve repeated, leaning into him now, so desperate for the memories that he knew were just out of reach, and before he could stop them, the words he so badly wanted to say stumbled out of his mouth. “We were in love, Buck.”  
The sentence hung in the air for what felt like forever. Neither or them moved or breathed for several minutes. Those words rang in Bucky’s head like bells, and against his better judgement, he believed them to be true. But he still couldn’t remember!  
“No,” he said quietly, almost too quiet to hear. And then louder, “No! Fuck!”  
He pushed away from Steve, eyes wild and desperate. His flesh fist drew back, and before he could stop it, it swung forward and landed harshly against Steve’s jaw. Steve instantly crumpled, too weak to do anything else, and Bucky backed away, yelling.  
“No! No. No. No. No…” he chanted to himself, like he was trying to convince himself that it wasn’t true. “I can’t… I don’t… remember.” He looked down and saw Steve bloodied and bruised on the ground and grabbed him roughly, hauling him up. “Why can’t I remember that?” he demanded, shaking him hard.  
Steve barely registered what had happened. It was so fast that there was no time to process anything but the awful pain now radiating from his jaw. If it wasn’t broken, there’d be a serious bone bruise. As soon as he saw the desperation and torture in Bucky’s eyes, though, he forgot all about it. “I’m so sorry,” he urged. “But I think you do remember. At least on some level. Otherwise I’d be dead by now.”  
Too much. It was too much for him to process. His body believed what he was saying, but his brain couldn’t. He pushed Steve up against the wall so he wouldn’t fall over and took a step back, trying so hard to find something, anything to make his words hold some truth. His attempts proved futile, he finally realized, and he just couldn’t make himself remember. It was driving him crazy. He had to find out. He had to remember. So if his brain couldn’t, maybe his body could trigger something.  
“AHHHHHH!.”  
He reached Steve in one stride and for a moment thought he was going to hit him again. But instead he resorted to the one thing that had even the smallest chance of making him remember. He grabbed Steve’s head roughly, not bothering to avoid the injury he had put there only moments ago, and crushed their lips together. It wasn’t soft or sweet, like Steve used to imagine hundreds of times over back when he thought Bucky was dead. It was hard and messy and brutal. It was pure rage.  
Bucky turned his mind off and let his body take control. At first it was angry and rough. He didn’t even know what he was doing until he was doing it. It was just lips on lips, teeth clashing into each other as he ravished his mouth. And then all of the sudden, it was so familiar. The rage melted into a desire he didn’t know he had in a split second, and all he wanted was to be closer. He softened his grip on Steve’s head and pulled him close, as close as he could get with Steve’s hands tied behind his back.  
Steve made a noise close to a squeak as he was pulled roughly against Bucky’s mouth, but he made no move to stop it. He accepted the pain and let Bucky do what he needed to do to get him to remember. That’s all he ever wanted. His fatigue and pain soon began to fade away and was being replaced by adrenaline. He couldn’t keep up with Bucky’s energy, but he returned the kiss with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. For a while, he was worried that it wasn’t working, he wasn’t remembering, but then something shifted. The air around them changed and in one instant Bucky was loosening his grip, pulling him closer. His lips, once having no goal, no purpose, were now melding with his with such passion that Steve’s legs gave out again.  
Bucky caught him before he fell and supported him once more, but he pulled away slightly, panting. His eyes were wild and his lips were slightly red and puffy. His eyes were glassy, like there were tears he was holding back.  
“Buck, I-ah!” he cried out as Bucky spun him around roughly. He pressed him against the wall face first and held him there with his own body. The sound of a knife opening startled Steve, and he struggled, trying to get out of the tight grip, but then he felt the rope being cut away. When it was all cut off and tossed aside, Bucky spun him back around and pressed himself against him as hard as he could. The tears were now too much to hold in and they spilled quietly down his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around him. “I can’t remember,” he said, choking on his own words. “I can’t remember any of it.”  
Steve brought his hands up tentatively to rest against his biceps. When he got no protest from Bucky, he squeezed gently, reassuringly.  
“It’s alright,” he whispered gently, turning his face to bury it in his hair.  
“No,” he said after a long pause. He pulled away slightly so he could see his face. “I need to remember but I can’t. But now there are some things that I know.” He ducked his head, trying to hide his vulnerability. “Like I know that I loved you. I don’t know how I know since I can’t remember. But I know.”  
“Buck-“  
“No!” he said again, louder this time. “Just… Stop! I don’t want your words! They’re not helping!”  
Steve shut his mouth instantly, finally realizing exactly what it was that Bucky so desperately needed. And it wasn’t anything he could say. Bucky looked at him pleadingly, waiting for some sign that it was okay. His hands that were around his back moved so they rested once more at Steve’s hips and he stepped in so his lips were just a breath away. And he waited. Looking at Steve so closely, so hungrily that Steve’s stomach felt as if it flipped over on itself.  
“Well then,” he whispered, his voice coming out a lot higher than he intended. “Do whatever it is that you think will help you.”  
That was all he needed. As soon as the words left Steve’s mouth, Bucky was once again attacking his lips with his own. It started much gentler than the last kiss, but it was no less desperate. Bucky was on a new mission now. To take everything from Steve and give him back just as much from himself. His lips moved with earnest intent, pushing Steve’s open so he could deepen the kiss. Steve couldn’t help but moan at the intimacy of it. He craved it just as much as Bucky needed it, and he had been without it for far too long. His hands roamed around his chest, feeling the hard muscle under the shirt. He was pure brute strength and Steve loved how it felt. He let his hands wander to the hem and he tugged on it a little, silently asking permission. Bucky raised his arms in response, letting Steve pull it over his head and toss it onto the floor. The contact was broken only for a moment though, and as soon as the shirt was out of the way, he was all over him again, pushing him back into the wall, pressing himself close. The feeling of skin against skin was amazing, and it drove Steve mad with want. He’d all but forgotten what this level of love and lust was like.  
Bucky’s knee nudged its way between Steve’s legs, feeling the effect he had on him. The physical proof that what he couldn’t remember was really true. Steve gasped at the sudden contact, and ground his hips down on instinct, trying to find the friction that felt so good. His hands once again went to his chest and mapped out every feature, every detail that had changed since he last saw him. He felt every scar, remembering the old ones and learning the new ones. He brushed his nipples lightly with his thumbs, causing a sharp intake of breath from Bucky. He ran his hands down his stomach, following the muscles down to the edge of his jeans and then back up to his pecs. All of it was so perfect until… he stopped when his fingers came in contact with the bumpy scarring near his left shoulder. He felt Bucky freeze in front of him, his lips instantly left his. All the magic was gone in a second and Bucky dropped his head to Steve’s shoulder, breathing heavily. He prepared himself for the horrible things Steve was about to say. His heart started to shatter, and then close up again as he waited for the judgement to come. But then it didn’t. Instead, he felt Steve run his fingers along the edge, feeling every ugly scar. There was no disgust in the way he was touching him. It was almost reverent. He never said a word, but suddenly Steve was leaning forward, pressing his lips where his fingers just were. He kissed along the edge softly, pouring his love into every press of lips. He didn’t stop there, though. To Bucky’s surprise and amazement, he started kissing across his shoulder and down the metal. He couldn’t feel it like he could with regular skin, but there were sensors that told him what he was doing. He leaned back and watched, entranced as he continued his path down his arm. When he reached his fingers, he pulled back to look at Bucky with hooded eyes. Slowly, he began to grind down on his leg again, still holding on to his metal hand.  
Bucky’s eyes grew wide and his heart pounded harshly against his chest at the realization that Steve was getting off to his metal arm. He thought he’d be disgusted, horrified with it, but instead he was turned on by it. Slowly, as if afraid to break this trance he seemed to be in, he leaned back in and brushed his lips ever so softly against Steve’s.  
“Fuck, that’s so hot,” he whimpered, pressing his knee up to create more friction. All Steve could do was moan in response as he took Bucky’s hand and slid it up his own chest towards his neck. When Bucky’s realized what Steve was asking, he took over, sliding the cool fingers easily around his neck.  
The response he got was instantaneous and one of the hottest things he had ever seen. Steve’s head fell back and a noise came out of his mouth that was somewhere between a moan and a sob. Bucky couldn’t help himself anymore. He had to have more. His fingers squeezed hard and he yanked Steve forward, pulling him flush against him, pushing his hips forward to meet Steve’s. He would’ve been embarrassed by the noise that forced its way up his throat, but he was too far gone to care. It felt too incredible. Like the first time, except with the feeling and the knowledge that it wasn’t the first time.  
Hungry lips attacked Steve’s as his hand tightened its grip around his throat. Steve’s eyes were rolling back in his head now, the combined pleasures of their hips moving together, creating that delicious friction and the cool metal squeezing his neck almost too much to bear. There was a moment of hesitation that caused Bucky’s grip to falter when he saw Steve’s face, but the desperate “no… don’t stop… please” cast out whatever doubts he had. His fingers gripped even harder, whirring and clicking with each move, making Steve whimper. Bucky’s eyes darkened with something beyond need then, beyond lust. He looked positively deadly and Steve couldn’t get enough of it. The sounds he was making were absolutely ungodly. He completely lost himself in that moment, and suddenly he was pushing Steve forward, slamming him back into the wall. He pushed him so hard he put a large dent in it, but he didn’t care. All he needed was to be closer. His hand closed tighter still, almost completely cutting off Steve’s airways, but he still didn’t stop. His lips found Steve’s once again and this time he forced his lips open with his tongue and pushed it deep inside his mouth. Both of them moaned at that, the sensation just adding on to everything else. Steve met his mouth with equal enthusiasm as he swirled his tongue around, tasting every bit of Bucky that he could.  
They were getting more desperate by the second, each chasing their own pleasure by giving it to the other. Bucky was the first to reach down and try to undo Steve’s pants, but it proved difficult to concentrate with everything else that was going on. He broke away from the kiss, panting wildly as he focused on the task of getting Steve’s pants down. His metal arm was still wrapped tightly around his neck, preventing him from doing much else but hang on for dear life.  
Frustrated and impatient, Bucky finally just ripped the pants down, sending the button flying off somewhere. He wasted no time in reaching out to grab his cock, sliding his hand up and down easily, using the precum as lubricant. Steve’s mouth fell open in a silent gasp as he worked his cock and tightened his grip on his neck at the same time. His hand felt amazing on him, touching him just like he used to, but it wasn’t enough. He clumsily reached down to try to find the edge of Bucky’s pants, but it was too hard to concentrate on anything but what was happening to him in that moment. Bucky got the message, though, and released his dick, grabbing Steve’s hand. Steve whimpered at the loss, but his hand was being guided down and wrapped around his cock as a replacement.  
“Here,” Bucky panted against his ear. “Just until I can get my own damn pants off.”  
Steve groaned and worked his own dick as Bucky struggled to get out of the now much too restricting clothes. Steve’s eyes widened when he finally saw it. He had seen it a million times before, but after so long, he had forgotten how magnificent it was.  
Bucky gasped when he finally took hold of his own cock. Suddenly he was having a flashback. Not a long one, just an image from a long time ago, when they were in a much similar position. Bucky had Steve pinned to the door of their old bedroom and was jerking them off together, desperately chasing release.  
He quickly leaned back in and kissed Steve with all the passion he could muster. His tongue snaked back into his mouth and was battling desperately for dominance. He took Steve’s hand away from his cock and took them both in his hand, pumping them fast, unable to control the incredible amount of pleasure that came washing over him. Steve couldn’t make any noise now. Wordlessly, he just grabbed onto Bucky’s shoulders and clung on, taking all the pleasure that he gave him.  
Bucky sped up, not able to control his own actions, and then suddenly he wasn’t there anymore. He was back in that same bedroom again, except this time they were on the bed. Bucky was on his back and Steve was inside him, thrusting in and out in earnest, a light sheen of sweat covering his forehead.  
He couldn’t stop the flashbacks if he wanted to. The more he felt, the more he saw. They came crashing over him, wave after wave, memory after memory. It was all too much, and he began to feel that heat in the base of his stomach. The pleasure was building higher and higher, there was no more coming back from this. No turning back. He broke away from the kiss and looked at Steve, maintaining eye contact as he got closer and closer. Steve was just as far gone as he was. His face was nothing but blissed out pleasure.  
“Come with me,” Bucky grunted, speeding up more, thrusting his hips up into his hand, no longer caring about restraint or self control. Steve nodded wordlessly, bringing his hand up to wrap around the metal one on his neck. He squeezed lightly, indicating what he wanted, and Bucky gladly gave it to him. His arm clicked and whirred as he squeezed as hard as he could without breaking his neck. All air was completely cut off now, and Steve’s vision was starting to go dark. He gasped for air as he felt the orgasm build within him. The sounds that the arm was making was all he could focus on, and it only turned him on even more. The pleasure kept building and building, so much that it was almost too much to handle. But then finally, wave after wave came crashing over him in one glorious moment that stretched out into eternity. He rode it out for what felt like forever, prolonging the pleasure as much as he could. He could feel Bucky’s release as well. It hit just after Steve’s did, and lasting just as long. He could hear the grunts of pleasure coming from his mouth and he memorized those sounds, locked them away so he’d always remember them.  
When he finally felt himself coming back down, his vision had gone completely dark. He had no oxygen and he could feel the life force being drained from him. His legs gave out and he fell to the floor, dragging Bucky down with him. When Bucky saw that he was passing out, he immediately released his neck and pulled his arm back, and for one terrible moment, it didn’t seem like Steve was breathing. But then he was gasping, breathing in the air greedily, and regaining consciousness.  
Steve slowly became aware of his surroundings again, taking in everything that had just happened. He sat up slowly, looking at Bucky hopefully, but Bucky was looking down at his hands, a distant expression on his face. His heart began to hurt, fearing the worst. Fearing that none of what just happened had made any difference, and Bucky would never remember. But then he looked back up at him with tears in his eyes and a small smile on his face, and Steve knew.  
“I remember.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for my girl Ashleigh! Enjoy <3


End file.
